


At the Edge of Glory

by Ceata88, SwedishTaco



Category: Book of Life (2014)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Body Horror, Boys Are Dumb, Character Death, F/M, Pre Cannon, Violence, baby dads having baby fights, co-author is Ceata88, graphic images of dead bodies, medal posession, someone else gets cut open and gutted, someone looses a hand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-20 01:58:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3632343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ceata88/pseuds/Ceata88, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwedishTaco/pseuds/SwedishTaco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chakal is once again terrorizing San Angel and Captain Mondragon is ready to end things once and for all. He leaves the protection of the town and his family to Carlos, his sometimes friend sometimes rival. When Captain Mondragon doesn't return, Carlos goes in search for him and discovers the aftermath of the battle.</p><p>Co-written with Ceata88.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. No Sacrifice No Victory

**Author's Note:**

> So AO3 doesn't allow co-authors to be a thing if they don't have an account?? So I'm putting a thing here, right at the very top and in the summary: This is a co-authored fic between myself and Ceata88 on tumblr. THIS IS NOT COMPLETELY MINE: FIRST PART IS. SECOND PART IS NOT. Seriously, go check out their stuff, it's awesome.

It started out as a small tremor, but the next time it was a violent vibration that caused the chandeliers to rattle. Several people in the expansive dining hall let out startled gasps and screams as another shockwave was felt. The sound of explosions was still far off, but they would be getting closer soon enough.

Captain Mondragon growled under his breath, immediately taking action. He looked directly at a table full of soldiers, “Get everyone out of here, and to the far side of the town!”

General Posada was already spitting orders at another group of soldiers, and the entire brigade dashed into action.

The dining hall was quickly cleared of civilians, and Captain Mondragon made for the exit, but his sleeve was grabbed by Posada, halting his departure. “Where are you going? Aren’t you going to make sure everyone in the town is safe first?”

He ripped his arm away from the general, leveling the man with a glare, “There isn’t time to do both. I’m trusting you to take care of the townspeople while I go handle Chakal.”

“You can’t just -”

Captain Mondragon whirled on the shorter man, his features darkening. “He’s _my_ brother, he’s _my_ responsibility!” He seemed to snap out of it when he noticed that General Posada was almost cowering as the taller soldier loomed over him. “Besides, it’s me they’re after. I’ll draw them away from the town…that way some of the damage can be contained outside the city gates.”

He left no room for arguments as he spun on his heel and darted out of the general’s home, and into the night. He practically flew down the streets, darting in and out of alleyways to get to his home as quick as possible. He only ran into two bandits on the way, and quickly dispatched them. Deserters didn’t deserve to have a trial.

When he got to his home, he nearly burst through the doors, barely having the presence of mind to not use brutal force. He didn’t want there to be a possibly of startling Joaquín. His eyes darted around the large parlor, but saw neither his wife nor his son.

“Gertrude?” He called, footfalls quick as he headed for the stairs. The door to the sitting room opened to his left and his hand flew to his sword. When Gertrude stepped from the room, Joaquín balanced on her hip, his hand fell away in relief. “Oh thank the gods.”

“What’s going on?” Her tone was cool and even, closing the door behind her and calmly walking over to Captain Mondragon. Joaquín yawned, and curled more into his mother.

“The town is under attack, I need to get you somewhere safe.” Captain Mondragon spoke, gently urging Gertrude to the door. “Most of the civilians are heading to the far side of the town, you’ll be safe there.” When they got to the doorway, he checked their route, making sure it was devoid of bandits. He waved her forward, and directed her down the street.

“I know that the town is under attack.” She said coolly, just as another explosion sounded in the distance. The sound caused Joaquín to whimper and he buried his head in Gertrude’s neck. “Who is it?”

Captain Mondragon’s heart gave a painful squeeze at the noise Joaquín made. He had never wanted his son to witness something like this, much less be a part of it. He pushed the thoughts from his mind, now was not the time.

Captain Mondragon continued to steer his wife down streets and pathways. “Who else?”  
He could see Gertrude roll her eyes, “I thought you and that bullfighter took care of him already.” Another explosion sounded, this time closer. Joaquín made another frightened sound and clung to his mother.

He cursed under his breath, and started moving them faster. “Apparently not.” They rounded a corner and saw several of the soldier’s helping people and ushering them away. Captain Mondragon stopped, and turned to his wife. “I’m going to go take care of him once and for all. I need you to go with these soldiers; they’ll take you to a safe location.”

Gertrude was quiet for a moment, watching him with closed off eyes. “You’re just going to leave us here?” Her voice was calm, but there was a cold edge to it.

“Gertrude, please…I can’t let this continue on, I _have_ to do something.” He needed to draw them away and quickly. If they were already this far into the town, then they were moving faster than he had predicted. When she gave him a skeptical look he sighed, pulling her and Joaquín into a tight hug. He tried to ignore how at first his wife tensed at the contact, but eventually relaxed into the embrace. “ _Mi amor_ , I’ll be fine…and I’ll catch up to you as soon as I can.”

His wife pulled away from him, but only at arm’s length, looking him directly in the eye. “You _will_ find us once this is done with?” The tone of her voice made it sound almost like an order, rather than a request.

“I promise, I will return to you.” Captain Mondragon reached up and took her hand in his, giving it a soft squeeze, and rubbing his thumb gently over her knuckles.

Gertrude offered him a rare smile, even though it was barely a curling of her lips. _Gods she’s so beautiful when she smiles_. She shifted her weight, getting a better grasp on Joaquín who had started to tremble in her hold. The boy looked up at his father with one large watery eye, giving a small sniff.

Captain Mondragon’s heart gave a painful lurch, seeing Joaquín so terrified. Gods, he didn’t want this for his son. Putting on a reassuring mask, he stooped a little to look his son in the eyes. “Hey, _mijo_ , can you do me a favor?”

Joaquín clutched to his mother’s dress a little tighter, but he gave a very small nod.

“Can you be brave and protect your mother for me until I return?” He gave his son a warm smile when the boy looked ready to start crying again.

Joaquín sniffed again, watching his father with wide eyes. Eventually he gave another barely there nod. “Uh huh.”

Captain Mondragon gave a stiff smile. “Good boy.” He ran a hand through Joaquín’s hair, stopping at the boy’s shoulder. He was momentarily distracted by how small his son really was. He quickly shook off the feelings and took a deep breath. “No retreat?”

“No su-ren-der.” Joaquín responded softly, his voice wavering in his fear.

Another explosion caught them off guard. The loud noise startled the small boy and he started to cry. Gertrude held him closer to her, shielding him just in case. Captain Mondragon scanned the area, trying to spot where the bandits could have been. He looked once again at his wife, and pulled her closer to him once more, intending to give her a kiss before he had to go.

He tried not to let it bother him when she turned her head, and the kiss landed on her cheek. Captain Mondragon gave his family one last look before urging them to go with the other soldiers. There was another explosion, much closer than that last – too close – and he tried to push down the rising panic he felt from his family being in danger. “Go! Hurry!” He called, signally to the other soldiers in the area that they were to take care of them.

Gertrude ran towards the group of soldiers, clutching Joaquín closely to her. As she ran from him, Joaquín was watching him as they continued to put distance between them. His son was screaming now, tears running down his cheeks as he reached for his father, crying for him over and over again.

Captain Mondragon had to swallow and close his eyes for a moment, the sound of his terrified son’s wailing forever burned into his brain. A handful of seconds passed, and he turned on his heel, running through the town in search of bandits. He ran into a few of them, and while they put up a fight, they eventually lost. It was hard to win against a man that couldn’t be killed.

Searching for Chakal so far had proven to be fruitless. Knowing his brother, he probably sent his men in the town to flush him out. Anyone who knew Captain Mondragon knew how much San Angel meant to him. To attack the town might as well have been an attack on the man himself.

He ran into a clearing, or at least, it should have been a clearing. There were bandits _everywhere_. And in the center of it all, was Carlos. Captain Mondragon could feel his blood boiling at the sight. Bandits went sailing through the air as he cleared a path to the bullfighter, eventually standing back to back with the man.

“What the hell are you doing here Sanchez?”

“Same as you, Mondragon.” The bullfighter took out another bandit, kicking the body away so it would be underfoot. Turning his attention to another one that had tried to attack him, he dodged around the bandit and struck quickly. “Defending the town!”

“No!” Captain Mondragon hauled up one of the bandits he had just knocked out, and hurled him at another group, taking out an extra three. None of them got up. “I meant why are you _here_ , and not with your family?”

“What? And let you hog all the glory? Never!” Carlos shouted with a chuckle, taking care of several more bandits. With the two of them working together, the numbers started to dwindle quickly.

Captain Mondragon ran a bandit through, before kicking the dead man away and off his blade. “ _Sanchez_ …” he hissed, nearly turning on the bullfighter in aggravation. “You shouldn’t be here! Go back to your family!”

Carlos ignored him long enough to down another bandit. After a quick look around, he turned towards Captain Mondragon, seeing the soldier take care of the last standing bandit. For the moment, they could take a breather. “I’m not one of your soldiers, Joaquín. You can’t order me around.”

“I know you’re not!” Captain Mondragon bellowed, causing the bullfighter to jump. “Damn it, Carlos, you’re not on your own anymore! You can’t just run into battle with me like you did when we were younger.” Captain Mondragon started to pace, gesturing with his free hand. “You have to think about your family now, _amigo_.”

“What makes this any different for me than it does for you?” Carlos shot back, practically stomping over to the soldier and waving his swords at him.

“Because I’m _already_ a soldier.” Captain Mondragon countered, rounding on Carlos. “This is what I do. I don’t have another profession that’s equally as dangerous, and then compound my risks of dying by playing soldier!” His hand shot out and gave the bullfighter a shove in his shoulder.

“You don’t shove me.” Carlos growled, bringing his swords to bear.

“I’m being serious, Carlos.” He knocked the man’s swords with his own, causing them to be pushed to the side. “You already put your life on the line with the bullfighting; don’t make it worse by chasing after bandits. Think about Carmen…think about Manolo.”

The bullfighter lowered his swords with a huff. “I don’t understand, we’ve always gone after the bandits when they’ve come around. What’s changed?”

“ _Carlos_ …” Captain Mondragon growled in warning.

“ _Joaquín_.” Carlos challenged, still refusing to put his swords away or budge.

He was getting frustrated, and he knew if he didn’t try and reign in his temper, bad things were going to happen…and he didn’t want to be responsible for something happening to the bullfighter.

“Damn it man! I’m trying to tell you that I trust you a _hell of a lot more_ than any of those igits that Posada calls _soldiers_!” He pointed in the direction of where the townspeople were gathering for protection. “I can’t trust them half as far as I can throw them with _anything_ , much less trying to protect our families!”

“O-our families?” Carlos spoke, whatever anger and challenge was in his voice dying off.

“That’s right, our families. Do you trust Posada’s soldiers to protect a rock, much less something as precious to us?” When the man in front of him didn’t respond other than his swords lowering to the ground, he continued. “I need you to go back, to them. But I’m asking that you not just protect your own family, but mine as well.” Carlos looked like he was going to interrupt, but Captain Mondragon beat him to it. “Carlos, please. I’m not going to be able to protect them from where I’ll be, and I would feel better with someone that I trust with my own life watching over them.” Then thinking better of it, “And I swear on all the gods, if you try to follow me, I will knock you out _personally_.”

For a split second, Carlos looked like he was going to argue, but one look from the taller man silenced him. The bullfighter looked down at his own swords, and let out a heavy sigh. Then realization dawned on his face. “You’re going to lead them away…”

“It’s me they’re after…they’re only causing all this ruckus because _he_ told them to.”

Captain Mondragon sheathed his sword, looking in the direction of the town gates. “I plan on taking care of him once and for all.”

“He’s alive?” Carlos asked, surprise coloring his tone.

“Apparently…” Captain Mondragon sent the bullfighter a smirk. “Guess you cutting off his leg only slowed him down.”

“Joaquín, he was _trying to kill you_.” Carlos waved his swords around in place of gesturing with his hands. “You know that’s why he’s here.”

He looked at the bullfighter with determination. “And this time I’m not trying to save him.” Captain Mondragon readjusted his sombrero, giving Carlos one last nod and turning to leave. “I’m trusting you with this, Sanchez…don’t screw it up, or I’ll have to come back and kick your ass.”

“You wish, Mondragon.”

The soldier had already started walking away, when he was halted by Carlos calling after him.

“Joaquín!”

Captain Mondragon stopped and looked over his shoulder, waiting for the man to continue.

“You will come back.” It wasn’t a question, but Captain Mondragon could hear the hesitation in his voice.

The soldier gave the bullfighter a cocky grin, “I always have before.”

Carlos nodded, taking the soldier at his word. “No retreat?”

“No surrender.” He watched Carlos jut his chin out, accepting the challenge, before disappearing down a street in the direction of the rest of the townspeople. Captain Mandragon knew that Carlos would do as he asked.

The soldier walked with purpose through the streets now, making himself a target for any leftover bandits. Just thinking about his brother and the rest of the deserters made him grit his teeth. He had truly thought when Carlos had cut off his brother’s leg, that would be the end of it. But knowing who waited for him at the other end of the bridge…

Chakal never was one for getting his hands dirty when he could easily have others do it for him. Even when he was in the army. So Captain Mondragon knew that his brother would be on the outskirts of the town where he could watch the destruction from far away, as well as be the first one to see him approaching. The soldier had no doubt that he would be walking into a trap, but this needed to end. He had to defeat his brother so that everyone would be safe.

He found it odd that he hadn’t run into any more bandits yet. They should have been running amuck everywhere by now. He walked just passed a broken down building when a hand touched his coat sleeve. Captain Mondragon whirled around, sword drawn in a flash to attack whomever had grabbed him.

He managed to pull back before he could strike the man in front of him. “Christ, Posada, I could have killed you!”

The short man brushed off his coat, looking up at Captain Mondragon with slight irritation. “Good thing you didn’t, else you wouldn’t have help to defeat Chakal.”

He didn’t even have to think about it before he answered. “Absolutely not, General. You’re needed here to help protect the town.”

“You forget, Mondragon, that I am your superior officer. _I_ give _you_ orders, not the other way around.” General Posada made a show of brushing down the front of his uniform where all his patches and medals resided. “I know you’re my best soldier, but that still doesn’t give you the excuse to ignore rank.”

“Sir, I’m going to be perfectly honest with you.” Captain Mondragon spoke, his voice eerily even and holding command. He towered over the shorter man, and often used his height as an intimidation factor. “You don’t stand a chance against Chakal. Go back, protect the townspeople, and leave him to me.”

Posada’s features twisted at that, once again irked that Captain Mondragon would dare try to order him around. “Captain, I can easily have your rank stripped from you.” The shorter man threatened, pointing a finger at him. “Now stop wasting time, and let’s go.”

“General -”

“That’s enough, Captain.” General Posada said harshly, in a tone that would have halted any normal soldier.

But Captain Mondragon wasn’t a normal soldier. “General, please -”

“That’s an order, Mondragon.” Posada barked.

He grit his teeth, trying to stop the hot pulse of his anger towards the general. He needed to calm himself down, or else there was a high possibility of something terrible happening. Captain Mondragon decided to try one more time to get his superior officer and long time friend to listen to him. “Jeronimo, please listen to me…”

“Joaquín, if I hear _one more word_ come out of your mouth, I will have you, and your family, _permanently relocated_!” General Posada turned on him, pointing that damn finger at him.

Captain Mondragon couldn’t stop his rage from boiling over. There was no way that little troll was going to take his home away from him and his family. This town was everything to him and he wasn’t going _anywhere_.

The only thing he saw was red, his unbridled rage bubbling through his veins and clouding his vision. His mind screamed, knowing that something horrible was going to happen, and there was nothing he could do to stop it until it was over. He silently prayed to the gods that Posada wouldn’t be dead when he finally regained control over his body.

When his vision cleared, and the buzzing in his ears started to ease, the only thing he could hear was screaming. He blinked once, and then again, and he looked around slowly, finally coming out of his daze. Before him kneeling on the ground was Posada, clutching at his wrist. It took Captain Mondragon a moment to realize that the man’s hand was missing, leaving a bleeding stump in it’s wake. He furrowed his brows, looking down at his own hand that had a blood covered sword clenched in it’s grip.

 _Oh gods_ …

Panic gripped his chest, and before he could think about what he was doing, stuck Posada hard enough to knock the man out. When the general was laying prone on the ground, Captain Mondragon dropped his sword, letting it clatter to the ground. Thinking quickly, he sunk to his knees, clumsily fiddling with the medal on his chest to get it off. He pressed the object against Posada’s arm, not bothering to worry about getting blood on the cursed thing. It took several minutes, but eventually the bloodied skin on Posada’s arm started to heal, new skin growing over the stump. Captain Mondragon only pulled back the medal when the general’s arm stopped bleeding. It wasn’t the best fix, but at least now the man wouldn’t bleed out.

Captain Mondragon repined the medal onto his jacket, looking around the area for something to partially cover the general with. There was a less likely chance of something else happening to him if the bandit’s thought he might have already been dead. He eventually located part of a blown apart door, and gently laid it over the man’s body. That should keep him safe enough for now.

Retrieving his sword, he took off at a jog towards the bridge out of town. It was time to take care of his brother.

The trip across the bridge and out of the town was quick one. He easily located his brother lounging against the large tree at the end of the bridge. Chakal looked as bored at ever, sporting a new accessory where his lower left leg should have been. Captain Mondragon tried not to grimace when he realized it was a cannon.

“What kept you, baby brother?” Chakal chuckled, pushing himself off the tree to start circling around Captain Mondragon. He pulled out his twin shark swords, and the metal gleamed with deadly intent. “Trying to gather your courage to face me head on? I see your little bullfighter friend isn’t with you…”

Captain Mondragon didn’t answer, pulling his own sword out in answer to his brother. The two circled each other, continuing to size up the competition. He glared darkly at the man, sending as much hatred his way as he could.

“Not much for conversation today, ey, Joaquín?” He laughed, the sound like grating nails on a chalkboard. “Or maybe you’re too scared to say anything.”

He sneered, readying himself for an attack at a moment’s notice. “No, I’m just looking at a sorry excuse for a man, who threw his promising future away from some gold.”

“Ah, but I’m rich!” He tapped the tip of a sword against his lips in mock thought. “But see, I want more than just money. I want _power_.” Chakal pointed the same sword at Captain Mondragon’s chest. “ _I want that medal_.”

The soldier grit his teeth, unwilling to back down. “You’ll never get it, Chakal.” Captain Mondragon made sure to keep one eye on his brother and another out for any bandits that might try and join in the fight. “You’ll have to pry it out of my cold, dead hands.”

“That can be arranged.” Chakal said nonchalantly before he launched himself forward.

Captain Mondragon easily blocked, pushing his brother’s sword away from his own, and dodging out of the way of the other. He ducked and weaved in and out of his brother’s reach, blocking what he couldn’t avoid. The few hits he had tried to land, harmlessly bounced off Chakal’s metal ‘armor’. The man was his brother, and even though he knew that Chakal had to be stopped…that didn’t make it any easier to kill a man that was family.

Captain Mondragon knew he only had a limited amount of time before the bandits in the town knew he wasn’t there anymore and came back to their leader. From what he could hear, however, they were still causing damage to the town. As long as it wasn’t the townspeople they were attacking, that was fine by him. Buildings could be remade, people couldn’t.

He blocked another blow from Chakal, and this time his brother swung down with both blades at once, forcing Captain Mondragon to raise his own. As he was trying not to be sliced in half, he missed his brother’s evil smirk before a foot shot out and caught him in the gut. The air rushed out of his lungs. Thinking quickly, he deflected the blades down and away from him so he could avoid getting slashed.

Captain Mondragon wrapped his free arm around his stomach. He wasn’t in pain, but it was still a shock. Chakal didn’t wait for him to catch his breath before he descended on the soldier again. It didn’t take Captain Mondragon long to realize that something was terribly wrong. Chakal seemed stronger and a little faster than he had last time they’d faced off. He also appeared larger, possibly even slightly taller than Captain Mondragon, but that was impossible. Captain Mondragon had always been the taller of the two.

It also didn’t help that Chakal’s shark swords were almost as big as the soldier. How was it possible for someone to wield two swords that big and treat them like they were feather light? Something was indeed wrong here, but Captain Mondragon didn’t know what. He also didn’t have the time or the patience to really understand why. The only thing that mattered was that his brother died tonight.

He waited for the perfect opportunity, knowing the way that his brother fought. He just needed to press the man the right way. Captain Mondragon went of the offensive, forcing Chakal to block hit after hit, the man too focused on the green glow coming from the medal. A few hits later, Chakal stopped looking at him and was looking at the medal. Captain Mondragon’s fist shot out, slamming into Chakal’s jaw. His brother stumbled back, his twin swords turning towards the ground in temporarily slack arms. Captain Mondragon didn’t hesitate to dart forward, slashing at Chakal’s side before shooting his foot out and kicking the area he had just cut.

Chakal let out a bellow that echoed over the water, and that was Captain Mondragon’s queue that the other bandits would be there soon. He walked over to his prone brother’s form, the man still struggling to get off the ground. Just as he neared Chakal’s form, the man gave a wicked smile and lifted his newly equipped leg. There was a clicking sound of gears turning and Captain Mondragon was a moment too late to try and prepare himself.

The bandit’s cannon leg fired, the shot hitting Captain Mondragon in the lower chest. He could feel his bones breaking and muscles tearing before being reset in a matter of moments. He didn’t even have the time to gasp out in pain before he was thrown away from his brother, landing hard on the ground and rag-dolling to a stop a large distance away. The soldier gasped for air, trying to roll onto his side in order to get up, but his body was slow to respond. The only saving grace was that he never dropped his sword.

Chakal walked over, his face beaming in victory. His steps were slow and deliberate, one of his swords dropping in favor of holding his wounded side. He sneered down at Captain Mondragon, “See brother, there always was some little detail you forgot to take into account.”

Captain Mondragon coughed, giving up trying to right himself onto his side, and instead rolled onto his back. He chuckled, but the sound was almost forced, and he hoped his brother would be too full of himself to miss the feign. “Too bad there’s one thing you forgot.”

“Oh? And what’s that?” Chakal asked, lazily waving his sword at his brother’s face.  
Taking advantage of his distraction, Captain Mondragon shot both legs out at once, kicking Chakal’s feet out from under him. The soldier then rolled out of the way of his brother and shot up, readying his sword for another round.

“I’m not dead yet.”

Chakal practically cackled, rolling over and getting up with a little effort. “Think you’re funny, do you?” The bandits gave a crazed grin, “We’ll see about that.”

Captain Mondragon barely had enough time to try and dodge out of the way of the metal hand that came flying out at him. He heard the distinct _tink_ of metal hitting metal, and noticed that the medal had been grazed, but was still in place on his jacket.

 _He’s going after the medal!_ His mind screamed at him, and a trill of panic sank in. Captain Mondragon then spent all his time either blocking a giant sword or dodging out of the way of a metal hand, both aiming to disarm him of the medal.

Chakal’s movements were becoming faster, stronger the longer they fought. And even with the medal’s influence and power, Captain Mondragon was starting to lose ground. Chakal was bearing down on him, shark sword pressing down against the soldier’s, and his attention was drawn away but the sound of charging feet for a second…

His brother didn’t hesitate to take his opportunity. A metal hand shot out and slammed Captain Mondragon right in the chest, forcing him back and off his feet into the tree, pinning him there. He struggled and slashed at the metal hand and arm, but it did little good. Captain Mondragon eventually stopped struggling and waited for another chance to beat his brother down. He knew that Chakal always wanted to gloat, and never hesitated to do so.

“Well, well, well…looks like you’re between a rock and a hard place.” Chakal’s dark chuckling only grew louder as he looked at his brother pinned against the large tree.

Captain Mondragon only glared. And waited. Chakal was getting closer with every step he took. _Just a little closer_.

“How about I take that medal off your hands now…” Chakal leaned in to retrieve the medal.

And took a blade to his face, Captain Mondragon cutting him across the nose and eye. Chakal reeled back, bellowing in pain, and in the process hurled Captain Mondragon away from him. After hitting the ground hard for a second time, the soldier didn’t even hesitate to go after his brother, he knew there was no saving this man from his life of villainy and cruelty.

Captain Mondragon charged, striking his brother in every area he could reach not covered in metal. In his rage and fury, Chakal became a bleeding mess, his clothing starting to soak through with blood. In his lack of finesse and observation, he missed the group of bandits rushing in to aid their leader. It took half a dozen of them to pull him away from Chakal, and hold him back. He struggled, in his compromised state, he didn’t know who was who…he only knew that he was being held back achieving his goal of killing someone.

Chakal rose steadily to his feet and with one broad stroke of his sword, flicked off the medal from Captain Mondragon’s jacket. The medal went flying off several feet in the distance, and in that moment, the soldier’s eyes completely cleared, and his struggling stopped.

He didn’t get a chance to breathe before he found himself with a sword cutting across his chest. Captain Mondragon looked down at the wound in confusion, pain and blood blossoming across his torso. It started imperceptibly but grew to the point that he had to control his breathing in order to keep it down. He struggled, but the bandits around him held him firm.

His brother looked on him in disgust, and limped over to where the medal was. Chakal picked up the glowing object, and attached it to his own shirt. Almost instantly, he lost his limp, and his wounds started to heal. As he walked back over to his brother, each step became stronger and surer. By the time he was looming over his brother, most of his wounds had healed and everything had stopped bleeding.

Captain Mondragon looked up at his brother, a snarl plastered on his face. His vision was starting to fade in and out, the medal’s effects still coursing through his system. He waited for Chakal to say something, to rub the fact that he won in his face, but it never came. The soldier’s mind eventually calmed down, and dread slammed into his chest at the position he found himself in.

He had failed. He failed to kill his brother, failed to keep the medal away from him, and failed to protect the town. Captain Mondragon’s mind raced, thinking of all the townspeople he had let down. He let down General Posada…Carlos and his family…his _own_ family… _oh gods, Joaquín_. His boy was going to grow up without his father around. He was going to miss seeing his boy learn and grow, miss seeing the smile on his face everyday…and that hurt more than knowing he was about to die.

Something else occurred to him then, and his heart nearly stopped at the thought. Because he had failed, San Angel would _burn_. It wasn’t just that either; Chakal would personally hunt down every single person who was even remotely close to Captain Mondragon. The twisted son of a bitch wouldn’t just kill them, he’d make them suffer. San Angel would be razed to the ground.

There would be no survivors.

Captain Mondragon couldn’t let that happen. Failure wasn’t an option. Just the thought of Chakal going after his friends and family made his blood boil, not just because of his brother, but at himself for ending up in this situation. He should have been faster, should have fought _smarter_. A furious rage was building inside the soldier, and his muscles tensed in anticipation. One thing was certain: he needed to get that medal back.

With surprising strength and speed, he broke free of the few bandits that were holding him back with a bellowing roar, fueled by desperation. He spun around, his sword sweeping to catch any of the bandits that had gotten close to him. Most jumped out of the way, several were unlucky enough to have their bellies cut open.

Using his momentum, he charged right into Chakal. Captain Mondragon slammed his shoulder in to his brother’s stomach, and pushed with everything he had. Chakal went down, Captain Mondragon following after him, trying to rip the medal off his brother’s shirt. No success. Chakal, though temporarily stunned, wasn’t taken aback enough to not fight back. The soldier found a knee in his gut before being thrown off.

As soon as he hit the ground, he rolled out of the way of the giant sword swinging down at him. He was on his feet in a flash, adrenalin coursing through him. Captain Mondragon attacked Chakal, his blade singing through the air in fast and furious blows, putting his brother on the defensive. He inherently knew that he couldn’t harm Chakal as long as he wore the medal, nor would his brother feel pain, so he had to be smart about this.

He was surprised when none of the other bandits were trying to take him down, but he was grateful all the same. While it didn’t give him an advantage, it was one less thing he had to worry about. Captain Mondragon knew that he couldn’t stop his brother, even if he managed to get the medal back, there was no way that he was going to be able to defeat him in battle…whatever had happened to his brother made that impossible. But…if he could get the medal back…

Captain Mondragon tried to move out of the way of his brother’s sword, but it still ended up clipping his upper arm. The soldier was running out of time, and energy. He had sustained multiple wounds from Chakal already, and with the amount of blood staining his uniform, it wouldn’t be long before he bled out. Captain Mondragon knew that’s what Chakal was hoping for, that he’d run out of steam before he could get his hands on the medal. He didn’t care how long he had to force his body to keep working, he needed to get that medal back. Even if he didn’t survive the night, he might still be able to save everyone else.

Captain Mondragon parried a strike from his brother, dodging out of the way just enough to be practically next to Chakal, and swung his sword low. Just as he had hoped, he caught the back of his brother’s leg, slicing through to the man’s lower leg to bone as well as knocking it out from under him. The disabling wound was only temporary, but it might give him just enough time to get the medal back.

Just as he was reaching for the medal, he felt a sharp pinch in his shoulder, but he ignored the pain. He managed to grab hold of the medal and rip it from Chakal’s shirt, but his hand was knocked away and the medal went flying. It landed in the dirt not far from them, and it became a mad dash to get to the glowing object.

He sprinted towards the medal until a large metal hand grabbed his leg. He yelped as he hit the dirt, his lungs protesting the amount of times he’d lost his breath already. Without thinking, he swung his sword around behind him and caught Chakal on the nose again. His brother roared in pain, and let go of the soldier in distraction. Captain Mondragon then stabbed his sword through Chakal’s metal hand and into the ground, holding the man in place, and allowing him to scramble towards the medal.

“GET HIM!”

Captain Mondragon didn’t stop. He ignored his brother’s rage filled shouts and the remaining bandits heading his way. His foot caught on something and he tripped, but turned his fall into a dive. A wave of relief flooding through him as his hand wrapped around the medal. In a panicked desperation, instead of simply holding onto the medal, he did the unthinkable: Captain Mondragon took the cursed thing and shoved it into one of the open wounds below his ribs, pressing until it was completely lodged inside his body.

He had just pulled his hand away when the first bandit tackled him to the ground. Several more piled on top of the first, and soon he was firmly pressed to the ground under a dog pile. Captain Mondragon didn’t struggle, there was no need to. He tried turning his head towards the direction of stomping feet, but it was difficult.

“Restrain him.” Chakal growled, clutching at his metal hand.

The bandits pinning him down slowly backed off until there were three holding him on his knees: two holding his arms, and one standing on his legs behind him. The one standing on his legs also had his head pulled back by his hair and a dagger to his throat.

“Where is it?” His brother loomed over him, his face twisted with rage.

Captain Mondragon eyed his brother, his face bruised and bloodied. He said nothing.

“ _Where is it!?_ ” Chakal snarled, backhanding the soldier with his good hand.

His head twisted violently to the side, yet he felt no pain. Captain Mondragon’s shoulders started shaking, a quiet laugh starting to bubble from him, eventually turning hysterical.

“GIVE IT TO ME!” The man roared in Captain Mondragon’s face, and the bandit holding the soldier’s hair tightened his grip in fear.

With his strength slowly returning, and some of his wounds already starting to heal, the soldier knew it wouldn’t take them long to figure out that he hid the medal. He knew he wouldn’t survive after they took the medal from him, and that spurred him on. “You want the damn thing so badly? You’re going to have to make a deal.” He prayed to the gods they didn’t figure out that he was hiding it inside him.

Chakal narrowed his eyes, his low rumbling sounding more like an animalistic growl. “What deal?” He looked down at his brother with disinterest, and his tone was colored with suspicion. His brother unsheathed one of his giant shark swords and placed it under Captain Mondragon’s chin, forcing him to raise his head with the blade.

Captain Mondragon grit his teeth, glaring daggers at his brother. He was going to make this right. Chakal could do anything he wanted to him, just as long as he left his friends, family, and the town alone. “Leave San Angel be, and you can have the medal.” The soldier knew that wouldn’t be enough for his brother, and he waited patiently to pull the ace from his sleeve.

“Tempting, but it’s not enough…” Chakal pulled his blade away, making sure to cut a line along Captain Mondragon’s chin. “There has to be some… _payment_ in order for me to leave your precious town alone.”

The soldier made a show of being upset by what Chakal said, struggling in the grips of the bandits, and paying no mind to the dagger at his throat. Then he pretended to get an idea and stopped his struggling.

Thinking he’d try and get one last rise out of his brother, Captain Mondragon spat at his brother’s feet. “You want your damn tribute? _You got it_.” Please let this work…

Chakal halted mid-step, slowly turning on his heel to glare at his brother. He must not have believed the soldier was being serious. “You would sacrifice yourself for this insignificant island in the middle of nowhere?” When Captain Mondragon didn’t disagree, the bandit rolled his eyes, displaying his disgust for his brother blatantly. “Of course you would…”

“You’ve wanted to kill me for a long time now, right? Now’s your chance.” Captain Mondragon looked back towards the town. It was still aglow, even if parts of it were on the darker side. There weren’t any fires, so that was lucky. The townspeople could easily rebuild it. “My life, and the medal, for all of San Angel.”

His brother seemed to think it over, giving the soldier an appraising look. Captain Mondragon knew from experience that his brother thrived on being in the spotlight, and having all kinds of publicity, be it bad or good. And killing not only a notable war hero, but a town hero as well…the soldier knew his brother would find the idea appealing. The amount of pain Chakal would cause to others indirectly from Captain Mondragon’s death would just be a bonus.

After several long minutes of deliberation, Chakal finally raised an eyebrow at his brother. His mouth twisted in a feral grin. “Deal. Now where’s the medal?”  
Swallowing thickly, Captain Mondragon arched his back, the deep wound below his ribs parting, showing a faint green glow.

Chakal’s grin turned cruel, “You always were a sneaky bastard…”

As his brother started walking back to him, Captain Mondragon stubbornly narrowed his eyes and lifted his chin. He knew that Chakal wouldn’t make this process easy, or quick…he was going to suffer greatly, and probably for a long, long time. The soldier made his mind up to that he was probably going to die from exsanguination before anything else.

Just as Chakal made it to him, he closed his eyes. He counteracted all the pain he felt by thinking of happier times. He thought about all the stupid fights and competitions he’d had with Carlos. He thought about meeting and courting Gertrude, her smile still made his heart flutter, even now in his torment. He thought about Joaquín, when he was born, watching him grow. When he would get on the floor with his son and play with the soldier figurines he’d gotten for the boy that last time he was in Mexico City. Seeing his son’s smile, hearing him laugh…

He’d never get to do that again. Captain Mondragon’s heart gave a painful lurch, thinking of all the people he had failed tonight…or was that because of what was happening to him now…

He tried to lock the scream that tried to rip from his throat behind clenched teeth as the sword was slowly skewering him.

All the promises and reassurances to everyone tonight were lies. He didn’t want to be remembered as a liar, but that’s what he had become in just a few short hours. He’d lied to Carlos, he’d lied to General Posada… _Gods_ , he’d even lied to his wife and child. They wouldn’t even know what he’d done to protect them. What kind of man did that make him? He didn’t want to think about it.

Captain Mondragon silently prayed to the gods that he would be remembered as he was, and not how they found him. He took a weak, shuddering breath, his lungs compressed from the metal hand shifting around inside him in search of the medal.

Somewhere in the Cave of Souls, a candle blew out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next part will be by Ceata88, my lovely co-author, partner in crime, and fellow member of the evil authors club.


	2. No Return No Rejoice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So AO3 doesn't allow co-authors to be a thing if they don't have an account?? So I'm putting a thing here, right at the very top and in the summary: This is a co-authored fic between myself and Ceata88 on tumblr. THIS IS NOT COMPLETELY MINE: FIRST PART IS. SECOND PART IS NOT. Seriously, go check out their stuff, it's awesome.

  It was quiet.

 Too quiet. Unbelievably quiet. Considering the chaos that had surrounded them earlier he could hardly believe it.

 But he still stood there pressing against the doors of the church with many other soldiers. Everyone had to retreat inside when the bandits threatened to draw even deeper into the town. Thankfully no one had gotten hurt but soon after shutting the doors the explosions started. The walls rattled, one of the windows had shattered, but none of them had managed to make it inside.

 But now it was quiet.

 No bombs, no clanging of weapons, no hideous laughter from beyond the thick wooden barrier. Carlos even pressed his ear against it, but could hear nothing.

 When it had gone silent outside the effect seemed to spread to everyone cowering behind or under pews. Carlos never left his position but constantly shot glances at his wife who clung to their three year old son. His eyes were wide and fearful, but he didn’t make a sound.

 Even with the silence it took a very long time for the bullfighter to straighten up and move to one of the windows. The streets seemed to be completely abandoned now. A haze of smoke still lingered in the air.

 A part of him wanted to go out and check. Another part of him told him to stay put.

_“You will come back.”_

_“I always have before.”_

 His friend would come back. He’d announce that everything was safe and then they could leave. Until the last possible moment Carlos refused to believe otherwise.

 “Should we…?” One of the soldiers spoke up. A few of the others shrugged.

 “The General and the Captain told us to wait here.” Carlos hissed at them. “And that’s what we’re going to do.”

 But as the silence pressed on, doubt started to eat into his mind. As a distraction he glanced around at the fearful citizens. His wife watched him carefully but her gaze kept moving down to Manolo. His grandmother sat near them, honestly looking disinterested in the whole thing.

 Gertrude sat near the back, just staring at one of the walls. Joaquín hadn’t stopped crying since he had run into them. Although now it was nothing more than a muffled whimper rather than a wail. He had always known the woman to be cold, but she hadn’t stopped whispering to soothe the boy.

 Sometimes he swore he actually saw a line of worry cross her face. He never thought he’d see the day.

 The silence grew heavy. If Captain Mondragon had stopped the bandits, why hadn’t he come to let them know?

 If he hadn’t, then where did the bandits go?

 Carlos swallowed and reached toward the door.

 “What are you doing?” One of the soldiers hissed.

 “I’m going to check.”

 “Carlos, no.” Carmen breathed. “You said we should wait.”

 “But nothing’s happening.” He said through gritted teeth. “Keep the door barred, got it?”

 So many of them looked like they wanted to protest, but in the end their fear won out. They stepped back and let him through. The door groaned and creaked as he inched it open. He stuck his head out first to look around.

The streets were still empty. Not even a breeze came through to blow away some of the dust and smoke. Debris scattered around some of the more busted up buildings.

 Carlos slipped out and felt his chest tighten when the door slammed shut again. Without missing a beat, he drew his swords and darted onto the streets.

He didn’t like how his steps echoed against the broken walls. He couldn’t stand how even out in the open, there wasn’t a single sound. No wind in his ears, no noisy farm animals, no chatter from a crowd. There was nothing. Certainly, he ran into the occasional dead bandit on his pursuit to find either his best friend, or General Posada, but that was all.

 The town was all but deserted. With all the citizens hiding away in buildings, there was no living person out on the streets. He knew he should be glad the bandits were nowhere to be found, but his panic only grew.

 He ran to the edge of town, toward the bridge. Maybe Captain Mondragon had drawn them over there. Maybe he was fighting them.

 He ignored any burning in his lungs, refusing to slow down. The smoke in the town had finally started to clear out, but his eye caught a flash in the sky. Were those storm clouds?

 Carlos leapt over a few pieces of debris as he ran faster and faster. He felt chills running all over him now. Something was wrong. Something was horribly, horribly wrong.

 “Joaquín?” He tried to shout, but he was becoming so tired it sounded more like a whisper. His feet slammed against the wooden bridge as his pace continued to increase.

_“Fine then, let’s settle this, at the usual spot.”_

_“You’re on, I’ll even race you there.”_

_“You’re gonna lose.”_

 Carlos’ throat tightened at the memory, which made it even harder to breathe.

 Finally bodies came into view. They were all bandits, he was certain, but the amount of blood that seemed to be coating the sand left him worried. He climbed higher and higher up the hill. Thunder growled at him from the sky and he could hear a few raindrops hit the ground around him.

 Then he skidded to a halt. A mixture of dust and blood flew around his shoes. Any air that was left in his lungs was gone now. His swords fell from his limp fingers.

 As a bullfighter the sight of nasty wounds was nothing new to him. In fact he had seen his father’s life trampled by three of the animals, and what a horrific sight that was. At some point, one became numb to it, knowing what those animals could do.

 But this was no animal; it was a man, and somehow that made it much worse.

 His best friend lay there on his back, arms outstretched. His head was turned toward the town, eyes still open, but they were so cold and empty. Carlos could hardly bare to look at the unnatural sight, but moving his gaze anywhere else only made the pressure on his chest increase.

 There was so much blood, and who knew what else, spilled out onto the sand. The wound started on the left side of his stomach and trailed all the way up to his right shoulder. In fact, it was incredible his body was still in one piece.

 Carlos’ knees wanted to give way, but he forced himself closer.

 “Joaquín?” The name fell from his lips, but he knew that was useless.

 There was not a single doubt his friend was dead.

 Finally his legs did give way and his hands planted in the sticky sand. His mind didn’t even register the sensation of the blood clinging to his legs and his palms. All he could do was stare at the image in front of him and accept that it was real.

 He knew it was real, but he couldn’t respond. Everything felt frozen.

 A flash of lightning only made the garish details more obvious. The amount of blood on his uniform, the tears in the cloth that seemed to have no wound underneath, the amount of blood that had spilled out of his mouth, it all became clear.

 He wanted to cry but nothing happened. He wanted to speak but nothing happened. He just sat there on his knees trying desperately to stop shaking.

 With another flash of lightning he found himself staring at his friend’s eyes. Their emptiness seemed to confirm his state more than anything.

 But then he followed their gaze. Slowly his eyes trailed down the hill and across the bridge to San Angel.

 He watched it light up with another flash of lightning.

 The rain was pouring down harder now. As the cold water hit his skin the air finally returned to his lungs.

 “You idiot,” He breathed. “You said you were coming back you…”

 When he looked back at the tattered corpse everything hit him at once. His nails dug into the sand as a monstrous scream tore from his throat. Tears flooded from his eyes but by now they just mixed in with the rain.

 He wanted to pull his friend into his arms and never let go but he didn’t dare, not with the state he was in. All he could manage was to turn his head and shut his eyes, although he almost failed at that with his shaking hands.

 “I should have stayed.” He choked out between sobs. “I should have stayed and you’re a damn fool for sending me off. What were you trying to prove?” The anger rose up from his throat. “You can’t just run off and play hero against an army, you idiot. You’re not invincible you’re not…”

 His friend’s laugh echoed in the back of his mind. _“Don’t worry though, I’ll always come back here.”_

 The bullfighter curled up even more. “You said you were coming back.”

 He should have known better. It was the same empty promise his father had given him.

 “Joaquín.” The name barely escaped his throat. “Come back.”

 His only answer was a long rumble of thunder from overhead.

 Everything went numb for a while, to the point he didn’t hear the footsteps of the soldiers. It took their terrified screams to turn him around.

 “S-Señor what-”

 “What are you all doing here?” He managed to stand.

 For a while none of them spoke as they backed away from the sight in front of them.

 “We were… you were taking so long but it was still quiet. Then we found General Posada out cold and-”

 “Posada? He’s alive?”

 “Well-”

 “Out of my way.” The voice irritated him even more now. Posada shoved his way past the soldiers and this is when Carlos noticed one of his hands was missing. How had that occurred?

 But the man, like all the others, froze when he saw the scene on the hill. His frustrated expression melted into fear.

 “Joaquín?” His voice became soft. “How… how did this happen?”

 “I thought you might know.” Carlos wiped his sleeve over his eyes but it was already soaked with rain water.

 Posada didn’t answer, either because he didn’t want to or he wasn’t paying attention. Instead he continued to push his way forward and even shoved Carlos to the side.

 The bullfighter was still recovering from shock as he stumbled over the wet sand. Anger gnawed at the back of his mind but he pushed it down.

 The last thing Captain Mondragon would have wanted was them fighting yet again.

 It was quiet for a while apart from the rain and the occasional rolling of thunder. One of the soldiers started crying and Carlos had to dig his nails into his palm to keep himself from joining in.

 Why had this happened?

 And why did it stop there?

 Before he could consider the question the general spoke up. “You should go back, Carlos.”

 For once there was no bitterness behind his words, but Carlos couldn’t figure them out. “What for?”

 “You don’t need to be here.”

 “Excuse me?” The rage he was trying to bury started to rise up. “He was my friend too.”

 “Oh yes I’m sure of that.” Posada turned and pointed with his good hand. “That’s why you let him run out here by himself.”

 “He asked me to protect the town, his family. He trusted me with that. Are you saying I should have ignored him?”

 “You let him run to his death.”

 “I trusted him.” Carlos raised his voice. “Didn’t you?”

 “Of course! But the townspeople were safe. We could have-”

 Carlos stomped closer to him. “And he trusted us, to defend what was important to him. You know damn well this town was everything to him.”

 “And he’s dead for it.” Posada growled. “And I bet you Chakal is still alive.”

 “Is that what’s on your mind right now?” His rage suddenly exploded and he grabbed the general’s collar. “Is that really what’s on your mind? Not what his wife is going to say? Or his son?”

 The image only now just crossed Carlos’ mind and his grip fell. The echoing whimpers of the boy in the church tore into his core. He recalled the feeling of losing a father all too well.

 “If Chakal returns then how do you propose we protect everyone?” Posada growled.

 “With everything we have.” Carlos spat back. “But that’s never been in your nature, has it.”

 “Being reckless? Of course not.”

 “Only a coward wouldn’t go running in to defend the people he loves.” He grabbed Posada again this time jerking the man off his feet.

 “Then why weren’t you here?”

 His vision went hazy. For a moment he could only hear his violent and angry scream. He lifted his arm to punch Posada but a pair of arms wrapped around it.

 But they weren’t the ones he was familiar with.

 When he didn’t stop two more pairs gripped him and pulled him back. They were shouting his name but he didn’t care.

 Posada deserved this, and more. How dare he stand there and act like this was his fault. Carlos was doing as his friend had asked. He was protecting the people precious to him. Captain Mondragon loved this town and everyone in it. Even in his final moments he hadn’t taken his eyes off of it.

 But Carlos hadn’t protected everyone precious to him, and his anger started to fall back on himself.

 He growled as he tore out of the grip of the soldiers. They were all frightened and backed away when he didn’t make another move towards the general.

 Posada just stood there in the rain, glaring at him.

 Carlos wanted to linger, to give the general a piece of his mind, but the exhaustion was catching up with him now. His gaze fell back on the tattered corpse and a wave of nausea swept over him.

 It hurt, to leave his friend lying there, but he forced his legs to head toward the bridge without another word.

 He needed to find Carmen, sooner rather than later. There were very few moments when he would admit how much she supported him, but he always knew.

 His steps headed to the church first. There was no telling if the towns people were still in there but it’s where she had been last. If not there she was definitely at home.

 But on his way there someone stopped him.

 “Carlos.”

 He almost tripped and turned to see Gertrude standing there at the door to her home. The balcony above her kept her safe from the rain.

 Joaquín was there too, clinging to a column, eyes fixed on the road.

 It felt like someone just kicked him in the stomach.

 “Señora-”

 “Where is my husband?” Her eyes never left him.

 What did he even say to that? Somehow “he’s dead” seemed far too simple. Those words wouldn’t leave his mouth anyways. His throat tightened and he glanced at the boy who still stared out into the rain.

 “Carlos, what happened?”

 He swore her voice wavered and he forced himself to meet her cold gaze.

 But in the end all he could do was shake his head.

 Her eyes went out of focus and darted around before they looked at the ground. Her fingers curled together and she bit her lip.

 “I see.” Was all she said.

 “Señora, I’m sorry I-”

 Gertrude just held up a hand and stepped over to Joaquín. “You should get out of the rain.”

 He knew what she really meant by that but he hesitated. His gaze fixed on the boy who clung tighter to the column as his mother approached.

 “Joaquín, come inside.”

 “No!” He shouted. “I’m waiting for papá.”

 “You should wait inside, dear.”

 “No!” He kept shouting. “He’ll be here. He said so.”

 The boy’s muffled sobs were making Carlos’ knees shake and he forced himself to step away.

 But even with the rain surrounding him he could still hear the boy’s desperate wails echo down the street. They wouldn’t stop bouncing around in his head and at one point he had to lean against a wall to catch his breath.

 The worst part is he feared this was only the beginning.

 “Carlos?”  
   
 The bullfighter spun around at the sound of his wife’s voice. She stood there in a coat and an umbrella to shield her from the rain.

 “Carmen,” He almost hugged her but managed to stop with his hands around her arms. “What are you doing out here?”

 “Looking for you.” She trailed her knuckles over his cheek. “When the soldiers said the bandits were gone everyone headed home but you… What happened?”

 Carlos could only look her in the eye for a moment. He squeezed his own shut as he took her hand.

 “What happened?” She pressed herself closer. “Where’s Captain Mondragon?”

 The bullfighter shook his head, losing his battle against the oncoming tears. “He’s gone.”

 She gasped and her fingers tightened around his. He thought she might start crying too, but instead she was silent.

 After a while she pulled him closer under the umbrella. “Come on, we should get you home.”

 “Carmen…”

 She wrapped an arm around his and pulled him along. “You won’t be any good to anyone if you end up sick from standing out in the rain.”

 “Carmen-”

 “You can talk to me when we get home.” She squeezed his arm.

 “Where’s Manolo?”

 “I tried to put him to bed, but he won’t sleep. Mamá is looking after him. He’s fine.” She smiled a bit. “He believes you ran out to scare all the bad guys off.”

 He tried to return the smile, but couldn’t quite manage it. If only that were true.

 The rest of the walk was bathed in silence and rain water. Carlos couldn’t take his eyes off the wet stone beneath his feet and sometimes it made him dizzy. With every step it started to feel more and more like a bad dream.

 His wife’s grip on his arm was the only thing keeping him rooted.

 The world around him seemed to shake as she opened the door to the house. Manolo bounded over to them in an instant, eyes wide and mouth open.

 “Papá!” He grinned.

 The urge to hold his son was overwhelming. However when he lifted his arms he saw how much blood was still staining his hands and his sleeves and he shoved them behind his back.

 “Did you beat them?” Manolo jumped.

 “Oh yes, all the bandits are gone.” Carmen crouched down and lifted him up. “But papá is very tired and needs to rest.”

 Manolo stared at her like she had grown another head.

 “Do you think you’ll try and get some sleep now?” She poked him on the nose.

 “Don’t wanna sleep. Wanna hear about the fight.”

 The nausea that swept over him kept Carlos from returning his son’s smile.

 “Tomorrow mijo, you need to sleep.” Carmen stared at her husband for a moment, eyes darting up.

 He assumed that meant she’d meet him in the bedroom and he just nodded. She left the room with a protesting Manolo who began to quiet down when she started to sing.

 “Mijo.”

 Carlos took a deep breath before he turned toward his grandmother. For once she had put her knitting away and was looking directly at him.

 “Who was it?”

 Once again, even her old eyes didn’t miss a thing. Carlos clenched his fists and took a deep breath.

 “The Captain.” He muttered toward the floor.

 “I thought so.” She picked her needles back up. “Guessing the bandits were nowhere to be found?”

 “No,” He looked up. “But how did you-”

 She shook her head. “That boy hasn’t changed a bit.”

 “What do you mean?”

 His grandmother didn’t answer him, or even look up from her knitting. With no response he staggered to the stairs and up to his bedroom. He could still hear Carmen’s soft voice singing to their son, but he didn’t stay to listen to it. He had to get this uniform off.

 Doing so was almost painful, however. His room was suddenly very quiet and even in the dark he could see all the red stains that decorating his clothes as he tried to pull his arms through the sleeves.

 It wasn’t anything new. How many times had he gotten blood on himself from bull fights?

 But this wasn’t the blood of a bull.

 Even with the jacket off, he clutched it in his hands, as if letting go meant letting go of everything else. As his grip tightened his chest did as well.

 “Carlos.” His wife’s voice was a soft whisper as she stepped into the room.

 He couldn’t turn around. He just squeezed his eyes shut and resisted the urge to hide his face behind the soiled material.

 Her arms slid around his stomach and he felt her press against his back. The contact at least relieved some of the pain in his chest, but he was still shaking.

 After a few moments she reached out and put a hand on his. “Come on, hand it over.”

 His fingers fell open and she snatched the jacket, folding it up and placing it on one of the dressers. “Thank goodness that lullaby always works on him.” Suddenly she was talking about Manolo. “I was worried he’d never get to sleep.”

 “Carmen-”

 “Shh,” Her voice softened as she stepped in front of him. “Talk when you’re ready.”

 He wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready. He had never given out the details of what happened to his father. How did you put something like this into words anyways?

 Carmen started to undo his tie and the buttons of his undershirt as he ran it over in his head.

 It’s not like he couldn’t visualize it. He was certain that image would never leave him. Not only that, but the screams from the soldiers, the screams of Joaquín, what would the state of the town be in the morning?

 A part of Carlos wondered if this town could even continue on without his best friend in it.

 Carmen slid the shirt off his shoulders and her hands rested there. One of them trailed up to his cheek forcing him to meet her gaze.

 Suddenly his whole world shifted to nothing but her for a moment. He wasn’t foolish enough to ignore the fact that she had known the man too. After all, both of them had competed for her affection at one point.

 And yet here she was, with a still expression and a gentle voice trying to hold him upright instead.

 “I’m sorry,” He whispered as he leaned his forehead against hers.

 “Shh, it’s all right.” Both of her hands rested on his cheeks now.

 “I… I don’t know what happened.” His body shook again. “There were all these dead bandits and he was… he…”

 The images flooded his mind again and knees went weak. Carmen caught him and guided him to the bed, urging him to sit down.

 He did, but the moment she was close he wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her stomach. The tears were coming back now but she said nothing. Her hands just trailed through his still wet hair and drew circles on his neck.

 “I should have been there.” He finally muttered.

 “Shush, don’t say that. Chakal might have just killed you too. Besides, he wanted you with us.”

 “I don’t…. I don’t understand him.” Carlos pulled away. “What was he hoping to accomplish by fighting him alone? The pair of us barely got away with cutting off his leg the first time and he just…”

 “I think you know why he did.”

 He looked up and her eyes seemed so sad. But she was right, he did know why, he knew exactly why.

 But something was buzzing around in the back of his mind.

 “If Chakal killed him.” He swallowed. “Then why did he leave?”

 “Huh?”

 “He killed the Captain, the hero of the town, why didn’t he just burn down the rest of it? Why did he-”

 The realization slammed into his chest harder than any bull ever had. His breathing stopped and the tears flowed freely from his eyes.

 “Carlos?” Carmen leaned over, trying to get him to look her in the eye.

 But he couldn’t. He couldn’t focus on anything as he tried to make his lungs work again.

 “You idiot.” He buried his face in his hands. “What part of ‘no surrender’ didn’t you…”

 He wanted to be angry. If Captain Mondragon were here now Carlos knew he’d be yelling at him but there wasn’t any sense in it. Of course his friend gave up his life for the town. Of course he did.

_“I love this place. I want to get stronger. I want to be able to protect it no matter what.”_

 No matter what…

 Carmen’s arms were around him again. He managed to returned the gesture and put his forehead on her shoulder.

 Who would protect the town now though? Who was going to stand up when those bandits inevitably returned?

 It felt like Carmen was going to move and he tightened his grip. “Don’t leave me.”

 “Shh, I’m not going anywhere.” She kissed his temple. “Not ever.”

 He foolishly believed her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want to see more from Ceata88 because they're so awesome?
> 
> Check them out here: http://ceata88.tumblr.com/
> 
> and here: https://www.fanfiction.net/u/1326397/Ceata88


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